Dancing with the Universe (Colby,David; G)
Title:Dancing with the Universe
Character(s)/Pairings:Colby, David
Rating:G
Warnings:None
Spoilers:None
Just him, the Fish 6-0, and the Pacific.
Perfect.
Colby, unhindered by a wetsuit thanks to the unseasonably warm weather, powered through the breakers and out to the clear water beyond the whitecaps. Here, he could see to the very ends of the earth. Here, he could turn his back on LA for a few hours. Turn his back on its crime, filth and the endless, soul-sucking violence that could send a boring ‘paperwork’ day spinning suddenly into an adrenaline-pumping, heart pounding whirlwind of ‘react or die’ tactics. Just occasionally, it was nice to be able to, quite literally, put all that behind him and paddle out on a junky off-day when the gulls and an occasional curious dolphin were his only companions.
The waves were head-high, pushing double overheads, so he was almost at the limit of his comfort zone. He was good, but he was no big-wave surfer. Colby reached the perfect point and sat up on his board. He scanned the horizon, looking for that characteristic bump indicating the universe was about to send a pulse of energy through the ocean that would pick him and his stick up and send them powering back towards the shore, mere bit players in the eternal cosmic dance.
Here, he was at peace.
Here, he could blank from his mind the nightmares that haunted him day and night. Nightmares that he hid from his friends and colleagues behind a laid-back, ‘just a simple country boy from Idaho’ act that had everyone fooled - everyone except Don.
Here, he could forget about the endless procession of snarling faces, usually accompanied by guns spitting lead in his direction. He could forget about the war that he never spoke about to anyone, not even David. Here, for a few brief, fleeting moments, he was free of the constant regret and self-loathing over the lies that he’d told - regret and self-loathing that he kept bottled up inside. He didn’t have to lie about who or what he was. Here, he was just another bozo surfer, dancing with the universe.
The horizon peaked and Colby spun around, facing back to shore. He felt the first pulse of energy tip the nose of the fish, and he paddled furiously. He could feel the muscles in his shoulders flexing as he dug hard into the surf, propelling the board forward.
Faster.
The board’s nose picked up and the fins cut into the water, spitting out a wake behind him.
Faster.
He kept paddling, harder, deeper, ignoring the burning sensation across his back from that old war wound.
Faster.
The wave built up behind him, containing more energy and power in one breaker than mankind could generate with a hundred power stations.
The crest of the wave curled over and, just as it was about to crash down on top of him, Colby popped up, balancing perfectly on the Fish and shifting his weight to the front of the board. The full force of the wave propelled him forward at an astonishing speed - this sweet little ride was going to take him all the way into the beach.
In that moment, it was just Colby and the ocean. Nothing else mattered. Nothing. Damn it, if the world ended right now, he’d go out happy.
A few feet from the shoreline he tipped lazily over the side of the board and into the water, a huge grin on his face. This…this was his happy place. All day long. As he emerged from the surf and wiped the salt water out of his eyes, he spotted a figure standing on the beach, waving frantically in his direction. Colby, ignoring the tugging leash on his ankle and his idly spinning board, frowned.
Who the holy heck wears a goddamn suit to the beach? He squinted, and then groaned. Of course. David. Who the hell else? Only David would stagger his way across the beach wearing loafers and a suit, cursing and glowering as his shoes filled with sand. As Colby got closer, he could see that, in between hoping on one foot as he tried to tip sand out of his other shoe, his friend had his ‘business’ face on.
Back to reality, then. Back to the filth and stench of LA. Back to the nightmares, the mayhem and the darkest side of human existence.
But he could always come back here.
Ya know.
When the universe wanted another dance.
Character(s)/Pairings:Colby, David
Rating:G
Warnings:None
Spoilers:None
Just him, the Fish 6-0, and the Pacific.
Perfect.
Colby, unhindered by a wetsuit thanks to the unseasonably warm weather, powered through the breakers and out to the clear water beyond the whitecaps. Here, he could see to the very ends of the earth. Here, he could turn his back on LA for a few hours. Turn his back on its crime, filth and the endless, soul-sucking violence that could send a boring ‘paperwork’ day spinning suddenly into an adrenaline-pumping, heart pounding whirlwind of ‘react or die’ tactics. Just occasionally, it was nice to be able to, quite literally, put all that behind him and paddle out on a junky off-day when the gulls and an occasional curious dolphin were his only companions.
The waves were head-high, pushing double overheads, so he was almost at the limit of his comfort zone. He was good, but he was no big-wave surfer. Colby reached the perfect point and sat up on his board. He scanned the horizon, looking for that characteristic bump indicating the universe was about to send a pulse of energy through the ocean that would pick him and his stick up and send them powering back towards the shore, mere bit players in the eternal cosmic dance.
Here, he was at peace.
Here, he could blank from his mind the nightmares that haunted him day and night. Nightmares that he hid from his friends and colleagues behind a laid-back, ‘just a simple country boy from Idaho’ act that had everyone fooled - everyone except Don.
Here, he could forget about the endless procession of snarling faces, usually accompanied by guns spitting lead in his direction. He could forget about the war that he never spoke about to anyone, not even David. Here, for a few brief, fleeting moments, he was free of the constant regret and self-loathing over the lies that he’d told - regret and self-loathing that he kept bottled up inside. He didn’t have to lie about who or what he was. Here, he was just another bozo surfer, dancing with the universe.
The horizon peaked and Colby spun around, facing back to shore. He felt the first pulse of energy tip the nose of the fish, and he paddled furiously. He could feel the muscles in his shoulders flexing as he dug hard into the surf, propelling the board forward.
Faster.
The board’s nose picked up and the fins cut into the water, spitting out a wake behind him.
Faster.
He kept paddling, harder, deeper, ignoring the burning sensation across his back from that old war wound.
Faster.
The wave built up behind him, containing more energy and power in one breaker than mankind could generate with a hundred power stations.
The crest of the wave curled over and, just as it was about to crash down on top of him, Colby popped up, balancing perfectly on the Fish and shifting his weight to the front of the board. The full force of the wave propelled him forward at an astonishing speed - this sweet little ride was going to take him all the way into the beach.
In that moment, it was just Colby and the ocean. Nothing else mattered. Nothing. Damn it, if the world ended right now, he’d go out happy.
A few feet from the shoreline he tipped lazily over the side of the board and into the water, a huge grin on his face. This…this was his happy place. All day long. As he emerged from the surf and wiped the salt water out of his eyes, he spotted a figure standing on the beach, waving frantically in his direction. Colby, ignoring the tugging leash on his ankle and his idly spinning board, frowned.
Who the holy heck wears a goddamn suit to the beach? He squinted, and then groaned. Of course. David. Who the hell else? Only David would stagger his way across the beach wearing loafers and a suit, cursing and glowering as his shoes filled with sand. As Colby got closer, he could see that, in between hoping on one foot as he tried to tip sand out of his other shoe, his friend had his ‘business’ face on.
Back to reality, then. Back to the filth and stench of LA. Back to the nightmares, the mayhem and the darkest side of human existence.
But he could always come back here.
Ya know.
When the universe wanted another dance.